For Ever: Love Eternal
by EmelineCarter92
Summary: Part 4 of 4 to the For Ever and Ever series. The Crawley's navigate the changes of a post World War II world and their growing family, preparing it for a new generation. Potentially a full fleshed story or little snippets of the Crawley siblings lives and their own children. Revised chapters! T for suggestive content.
1. Nothing Untouched

In early February of 1946, Jo had given birth to her first and only child, Noah Crawley Forsythe. Jo had kept the Crawley in her name, so she was Josephine Alexandria Crawley Forsythe, no hyphen. She didn't want to be 'pretentious' like an American. She had decided to come and visit, two months after Noah's birth.

"Aren't you married to an American?" Andy had asked. He was never serious with her. That was what George was for. They hadn't seen much of her since she had moved to America. She and George rarely did spend time together at all like they had used to. They were usually joined at the hip. She looked rather down over the last two months since the birth.

Andy asked her what was wrong.

"I'm unnatural." She watched his brows knit together out of the corner of her eyes. "I mean, I don't feel like a natural mother." She continued. It had been one thing to be pregnant, but having a baby..."Once he was here and I was looking down at his squashed faced I had fallen in love. But at the same time, I was like, what am I supposed to do with this?"

They smiled and she laughed. She wondered if there was room for happiness anymore, and when the war would truly feel over.

_May 1946_

War changes people. He had lost a limb because of it. But he didn't feel like he had changed much. Talking to his brother and his friend Johnny Bates about the army made him feel better and alleviated some of his worries.

His brother, for one. Andy had been acting as if nothing was bothering him since he had gotten home. Something had been missing in their father. They had sensed it since they were children.

George joined his father in his study. "How's Andy?" He had been woken up from his brother's screaming the previous night. By the time he had gotten to his room, his mother had been standing at the closed door, as if guarding it. His father was in the room with Andy. Everything had quieted down.

"It seems the two of you have been bonding. I thought he'd confide in you." Matthew had thought Andy would have spoken with his older brother, rather to him. Though they had fought in wars, they were still worlds away.

"He's just been having nightmares. He'll be fine."

"War changes people." His father poured himself a drink.

"It hasn't changed me." That's what Matthew had been afraid of. It made him seem weaker, feel weaker somehow.

"It did me. My mind was broke, not just my body. It broke me." He went on to talk about how it still stayed with him, for a long time. He had thought he had it managed, after ten years. He had been keeping it together, for all of them, after Beth had died. Then her first birthday had come. "I couldn't be a father to you, that you needed. You see, the man that I was, that your mother loved, died almost thirty years ago. I wasted so much time, trying to think I could be him again and feeling sorry for myself. She needed to accept, for us to start moving on. I still wasn't the best."

"You were. You were a great father. You still are. When I was younger, I felt angry, that you couldn't do things with me, get down on the floor with me and play or chase me around. But you were there for me. We could find other ways to do things." He told him about his dream about his truck having rolled under the settee and him trying to retrieve it from his wheelchair and that he'd push it around. "I don't know if that really happened or if it was a dream."

"It really happened." He wheeled around to his desk. He opened a drawer, pulling out a small box. A medal, a reward. He instantly recognised it.

"I never knew you had one of those!"

"I didn't. I gave it to a friend's father. He saved my life. He deserved it. Your mother must have gotten it back for me, a long time ago, after or before Mr Mason had died. I opened my drawer one day and it was there."

"That was very generous. What you did for your friend. I would have done the same."

"You're very much like me George. But there's one difference. You were...are stronger than me."

"You're just old." They both smiled, the same smile.

* * *

_September 1946_

Andy had gone out with a few friends and had come home late. He was downstairs, in the servants hall, hoping to sneak in. He couldn't make it to a bathroom, so he threw up in the kitchen sink. That would be a pleasant surprise for the cook in the morning.

Billy, was excellent to grab a drink with. But not who you would want to be friends with or would want your sister to date. He was glad that Jo had dumped him long ago and was married to a decent man.

'He's like my brother'. Jo would say.

"Which one?" Andy had jokingly replied. Jo had just brushed him off. It was like old times. How simple would it be to slip back into their old lives? Well for them. He only pretended. He was having trouble readjusting. He supposed it took some time.

He was going to slip off to his room before anyone saw him down here. But then he turned back to the sink, once more bringing forth the contents of his stomach. He wondered if this was what Jo had been going through with her morning sickness or if it was what Olivia was going through. He had been the only one who had found out by accident. And Olivia confided in him not to tell George yet. Carrie had hardly had it. Six more months and he would be an Uncle again. _Some Uncle. Going out, picking up women every other night. _He and Kate were the only ones unmarried. But at least Kate had a living.

He might be single for the rest of his life. He better get on, on to bed, his cold lonely bed. He missed the room he had shared with George at the house they had once lived in, back in London. Their old home was probably in ruin, along with his father's own childhood home in Manchester. Everything was in ruins.

Mary had caught him. She had been discussing things with Anna, just the usual housekeeping duties. She had decided to take up the job after all, now that Johnny had returned. She asked Anna how Johnny was fairing. Mary had given him a job as a footman. It would be hard with only one functioning hand, so she had been keeping his load light, at least until she could hire more. It was still near impossible, inquiring the employment of young men. Most had died or had been injured worse than Johnny or were like George.

_"I don't see him often, you know how young boys are. He's out with Andy most nights."_

_"Well, I'm glad that our two boys are friends. It seems only natural."_ When they had finished their conversation, she closed the office door, making her way through the kitchen. She stopped when she saw someone hovering over the sink. She thought it was a burglar at first. Her heart started to beat fast. What should she do? She could go back to the office and have Anna call the police. She could try for the stairs but she ran the risk of being spotted. Even if she could make it upstairs and telephone the police, he could make it to another part of the house. She thought, the children. Matthew! He wouldn't be able to make it down here, even if he had heard her. He hadn't been able to for years. She had to arm herself with a weapon but there wasn't one in sight.

Then she could tell it was Andy from his coughing. Her nerves eased but her heart still pounded. As she got closer to him she could smell that he reeked of alcohol.

"How long have you been like this?"

"I really don't feel well at all."

"I'd say. You have been drinking." He lifted up his head, giving her a sideways glance, followed by a groan of irritation.

"Please, don't tell father."

"Just go on up to your room. I think this will be punishment enough. I will, however, have to tell him if this continues."

As he followed after his mother, he could already hear his father's voice, _I raised you better than this._

He agreed that he had to stop, sooner than later. He was to be an Uncle, and had already missed out on being one to Mattie, having had still been deployed in the army. Mattie was starting to be very chatty though it was mostly babble. She would babble with Matthew for hours. Andy already had a nickname for his niece, Chatty, or Little Miss Chatty. They came up with nicknames for each other in the army. It was easier that way. Life had to go on.

Had it been this way for his father? He was afraid to ask.

Being an Uncle was what he should be looking forward to. He'd hadn't been able to be their at his nieces birth because of the war or the eleven months after her birth, he had volunteered to help clean up the mess. He had been discharged from the army, a few months ago. Since then it was like he didn't know what to do with himself. Clearly it didn't involve spending time with his niece (Jo had gone back to America) since his father spend most of his time with her, if it wasn't with George. He was the odd man out, though they were always trying to include him in everything. He had always felt that way since as far back as he could remember, that a big part of him was missing. Perhaps even before he had learned he had been a twin.

* * *

_October 1946_

Andy didn't plan on telling his father. He would be gravely hurt and disappointed if he told him of his drinking habits and latest escapades. Someway he'd have to tell him or he'd find out soon. He had been drinking, even during the war, but not this heavily. He had had a drink once, when he'd been fourteen. He could stop anytime he wanted to. Maybe if he found a woman to settle down with, the nightmares wouldn't come. He wouldn't have to resort to alcohol. Nah, if he were to quit it wouldn't be for some woman,( it worked for George, that didn't mean it would work for him) he'd do it for his niece and nephew.

Olivia called everyone to the drawing room that evening, with important news to discuss. There was going to be another addition to the family.

"Mattie will have a new playmate!" Carrie clasped her hands together. "She loves playing with Papa but it tires him out so. This one will be too little yet." She gestured to her stomach. She and Miles were expecting their second.

"What about Noah?" Jo asked, defensively.

"You'll be too busy in America." Carrie voiced her disapproval.

"We'll still come to visit."

"I hope you plan on staying at the estate!" Andy said, so I can do Uncle things with him."

"If it is a boy." George, who had been silent through the ordeal, finally spoke. "I hope it's a girl, that way if there's another war."

"There won't be another war." Matthew said, interrupting.

"That's what you said about the last one." George retorts. "As long as there are mad men out there like Hitler, there will always be wars, father."

The rest of the family didn't acknowledge or engage in his statement. They changed to a happier topic, discussing among themselves.

Carrie was asking if Olivia was thinking of any names.

Matthew contemplated what to say to his son. He thought he had to worry more about his youngest. With Andy's late night escapades and drinking, his nightmares and George's recent moods, should he be worried about them both?

George apologized to his father, saying that he was done in, that he should get to bed. It's lot to think about. "If it's a boy or a girl, I'll be happy either way."


	2. The Long Road isn't so Long with You

Her parents were the heart of Downton Abbey. She did not believe it could be replaced or replicated. Kate had seen her other siblings finding love, apart from Andy, he was hardly the type to be settling down right now, being only nineteen, and what he had been through with the war. It was clear he had to deal with some things. Not everyone can just jump right back into the life before. She had always thought that she wouldn't marry again.

Almost a year after Jack's death, she started nursing an old childhood friend of theirs. The Earl Wroughton, Roy Raynor. He had always had a thing for her, according to her siblings, that he was in love with her. Kate just didn't see it and thought they were having her on. She wouldn't say that Roy was strikingly handsome, while Jack had been average in looks. Jack had been a head shorter than her and had dark hair. Roy was tall and had blonde hair and grey-blue eyes.

She had gotten a letter from Roy's brother, Ivo, that he had been seriously wounded.

Matthew saw that whatever was in the letter was a bit distressing to his daughter. "What you've got there Katie girl? Is everything alright?"

"It's from Ivo Raynor, Lord Wroughton's brother. He's been wounded. He's in hospital in London. Roy. Ivo's thinking of trying to have him moved to Downton to further convalesce, once it's safe to move him."

"It must be very serious then." Her mother said.

"Of course we'll have him." Her father interrupted. "You did play together as children. This is as much his home as it is to any of us. I'd want him to be able to have the best comfort available."

"Thank you, Papa." Kate got up to kiss him on the cheek.

Once she arrived at the hospital, it was almost completely packed with soldiers, arriving in the hundreds, she was told. The Matron thought she wanted to volunteer as a nurse. She considered it. It would give her something useful to do since she couldn't go see George yet. And her mother refused for her to be his nurse, as they already had the best.

"I'm actually here to see a friend. Lord Wroughton."

"Yes, this way."

She followed her through the wards.

"What happened to him? I heard it was severe."

"Shrapnel to both legs. He might be a little groggy. Shot him up with a lot of morphine."

_Is it really that bad?_

"He's just gotten out of surgery." Matron continued, having must seen her worried expression. "His second. He had one at the field hospital. Messed up one of his legs pretty bad. If it gets infected, we'll have to amputate."

Kate didn't ask if she meant one or both. She didn't want to know at the moment. It would get in the way of cheering him up. Then she thought of George and how difficult it would be for him to adjust to having one leg. She banished the thought.

They approached a bed at the end of the room, in the corner, directly below a window.

It didn't even look like him. Of course it wouldn't. The last time she had seen him was a year ago, before he left for training, the night of her coming out party. His head was wrapped in bandages, a little bit of blood had seeped through at his right temple. And there was a nasty cut that ran down his face, almost to his jawline. It would leave a white raised scar, and hair would scarcely grow back there. His left leg was incased in plaster, while the other was kept raised, the cloth of his pajama's cut away so it wouldn't touch the skin. It was yet to be bandaged. The flesh had been sewn and stapled back together like some Frankenstein's monster. The way it was patched she could tell a lot of muscle and tissue had been blown away. She fought the urge to cry. She told herself to pull herself together. She was a nurse for goodness sake. But it was different when it was somebody you knew.

"We're running behind on rolling bandages. We're so understaffed, the nurses are needed in the wards. But it will need to be covered and soon as possible to avoid infection."

"I'll do it." She volunteered. Matron looked at her suspiciously. A moment ago, the poor girl had looked about to faint, then again, she said that she knew the man.

"I trained as a nurse in Ripon." Kate added. "I helped with the soldiers there."

Matron called over a nursing sister to help her. The sister came back with the materials, handing them to Kate.

She wore a brave face as she went over to him, seeing that he was awake. Then she stopped. He was just staring up at the ceiling.

Was it just the shock due to the surgery? The sister suggested as such.

He remained quiet as she dressed the wound. Kate tried not to make it too constricting as not to hurt him. He wouldn't feel pain now but coming off of the morphine, that would hurt more than the Dickens.

Then, as if he suddenly sensed her, becoming aware of her presence, he said her name, "Katie."

"I just go by Kate these days."

"How good..." His brow pulled down as he frowned. There were more lines there than she had remembered. He was older. He was, thirty? He looked puzzled, his speech a little slurred. It seemed to take him an age to find the words. The morphine was definitely working. "ell me. They've taken my leg. I know...they...'ave."

She kept herself from being shocked, her nurse training finally kicking in. "No. They haven't."

"Tell me...the truth. I can take it."

"They didn't take your leg. Look." She urged him. He hesitated, fearing to. After a second he did. "See. Both legs."

He gave a sigh.

"How good..." He said again. "too see you...am sorry about Jack."

"I'm coping. Life must go on."

"Yes. Ezpecially..."

She felt the grip of his hand loosening as he drifted off to sleep. She'd stay till he woke again.

She would often visit him. They'd just talk and play card games and chess, when he didn't want to talk. She would read to him, and the paper, though sometimes when it had to do with the war, he'd pretend to be asleep.

The next month, the war was announced over. She had run through the ward, almost scolded by matron, paper in hand. Like always he tried to ignore it. But when she repeated, "it's over. It's actually over!" His eyes had snapped open, unbelieving.

"It really is, Roy!" She held it out to him but he wouldn't take it.

His eyes began to water and he started to sob, his body shaking.

"Oh, Roy, don't cry." She sat on the bed and put her arms around him.

"It's just...I'm having a hard time believing it. You wouldn't lie..."

"No. I wouldn't."

"I believe that." He smiled and laughed. It was good that he was. "But I find it hard to rejoice."

"Yes. A lot must feel that way." He was right. As she answered him, the euphoria was already starting to fall away. The wounded were still wounded. The dead were still dead.

"It's wonderful news of course it is. But look at me, and all the other poor chaps. Well, at least there won't be any more dead or wounded."

"No. No, of course there won't." Not only him, but her brother, and so many others would bare the reminder of it.

Roy's leg still constantly caused him pain. He joked about how he'd have rather had his leg amputated rather than dealing with the pain. But she knew that he was actually terrified of the idea. And rightly so. Amputation was drastic and risky even with today's standards and anti-biotics.

When she came back to visit him, the weekend before they'd be moving him to Downton, they put him on something else to ease his discomfort. It had made him act more strange and out of it.

"Katie...Katie..." He'd say her name and squeeze her hand. She thought he wanted her to do something for him and he was too tired or it was too hard for him to think of the words.

"Yes?"

"So glad...it's wrong."

"What's wrong?"

"Thinking about you a lot. I'm not...'s not proper...I am.. when I first saw you..." His eyelids were dropping. "Everything...I loved about you..."

"You're sick." She got a wash cloth to wipe his forehead. He was asleep. Or so she thought.

He was sick. He had spiked a fever in the middle of the night. They moved him so they could keep a closer eye on him, in case the fever turned out to be something more.

Her heart almost stopped, skipping an earth shattering beat, when she didn't see him in his bed when she came the next morning. She felt as though someone was squeezing her throat, that she barley seemed able to get the words out, stumbling over her them, anxiously. "Lord Wroughton..when...when did it happen? When did he die?"

"Die?" The nurse looked frightened as a mouse, even had mousey features, "Oh, no. He's not dead. He's just been moved. The doctor wanted to go over what was best for his leg. Got a fever in the night, he did. We don't know if it's septic or just a normal fever. Unpredictable these things. So he's been moved to keep an eye on."

"Where...?"

"He's in ward D."

She was already running. He looked so pale and weak. She felt a hand on her arm. Sister Raylan.

"I think you should prepare yourself. I'm sorry. He means a lot to you, doesn't he?"

"We...we're just friends."

The next day he was much better. The fever had broken. Though he was still a little weak. They were playing a game of chess.

"What I said the other day, I was rather quite out of it, what ever I said, I was probably talking nonsense. Can't remember."

"Yes." She was utterly hurt but for the life of her she didn't understand why. He loves me as a friend. That was all he had meant in his fevered state. Yes, that had to be it. If he remembered any of it at all, there was no need for him to feel embarrassed. She wanted to tell him that but devised against it. She didn't want to ruin it, what ever this was they had, by making things more complicated.

It's not like she was in love with him. The way he said her name made her insides quiver with something warm and scary. She played it off.

Six months after his recovery, he asked her to marry him. They were having a party at Downton, celebrating with the soldiers the end of the war. Their big send off before the Abby returned to a private house again. He walked outside with her, using his crutches.

"You're the only one I can marry. It wouldn't only be suitable but people would expect it. And in time, I hope we can get to know each other again and come to love one another. I've always admired you and we are friends. What best way to start?"

She was considering his proposal, telling him that she'd think about it. In truth, it wasn't that she didn't want to, or that she wanted to wait for something better to come along, (she thought that maybe she could fall in love with him in time) she didn't want to let go of Jack's name yet, although, she never really had known him. She voiced her worry and concern to her mother.

"You're afraid of your feelings for him."

"I know it will be a big change. The challenges..."

Not just coming from same backgrounds (she had wanted something different) and having different interests. There was an oddness about Roy but it was a comfortable oddness, it made it easy to be around him. She supposed most of it was the war. And then there was his injury. It was as hard on him, almost as it had been for George. But Roy still had his leg. That was the other thing. She appeared to be coping with it, not letting it hinder him, but she just didn't now. If it was a play, all just for her. She did feel something for him.

One day when she saw him sitting in the garden, observing the way the sunlight shown through his hair, she suddenly thought, he really wasn't that bad looking.

From that moment, she was in love.

But now, while she was sitting in the drawing room with her mother, she was having second thoughts. Maybe it had been just that, just the trick of the light, the war having ended, emotions still running high. Things had seemed to start dwindling down. Being his care giver. Rose coloured glasses, one of the other nurses had called it.

_"Don't you think it's just the war?" She had asked him. "Taking care of you. Being dependent on one another."_

_"It brought us closer together. It doesn't necessarily mean a bad thing."_

"Of course we'd move to his estate." She was telling her mother. "But I don't feel like I could ever leave here or give up my nursing. He feels that I should have to, as my duty as a countess. If I truly love him, I would follow him wouldn't I?" She asked her mother.

"I can't answer that for you. Falling in love is a risk that only you can decide when you want to take it."

He said he'd wait for her, give her a little bit more time for Jack. He understood.

* * *

"Your mother tells me you've been drinking." Andy let out a sigh of relief as his father said the words, that he didn't have to confess to his father. "You mind telling me why. Why you would?"

"It's just grabbing some drinks with a few mates, for some fun."

"There's nothing fun about it. When you come in, falling over drunk."

"I wasn't...I was hung over."

"And that makes it any better? My father came back from the war, took to drink."

"Wasn't he a doctor?"

"Doctor, soldier, stretcher bearer, ambulance driver, they all saw what we saw."

"It's for the nightmares. It helps me sleep."

"If it's more than that."

"It's not."

"You can tell me."

"That's all it is."

"I'll understand."

"No, you won't! Just because we were both soldiers, not all our experiences were the same. There are things we can't speak of. I'll stop drinking. It doesn't make me feel that great anyway. It just makes things worse."

Matthew came into the sitting room, where George spend most of his evenings. He no longer occupied it. He and Olivia had their own room.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm all nerves as any first time father would be." First time father, sounded false to him. All those times he had lain with Sophia. He had to have been with her for months. Before the Germans had found them, the had begun to suspect that she was with child. When they had been found, she had told him to keep running and not look. That was when he had heard the two shots. Germans rarely wasted their bullets for warning shots, didn't they? He'd rather not know and believe they were out there somewhere, safe.

"When you were born, the first moment I held you, I fell in love. I still love you."

"Dad!" He felt embarrassed. It wasn't something that was really said. Their mother had never said it.

"You're my first born. The first I held. There were no words to describe what I felt other than the joy, that I could allow myself to be happy again. I hope you get to experience that."

"I want to be a good father. But no one could replace you."

"I'm sorry if I ever seemed cold to you."

"You never were. But sometimes, you seemed far away. Did you ever still have nightmares, during this one?"

"Not nearly for twenty years. I had a dream that you were lost, that you were hurt. Your mother didn't believe me. When you were missing. They almost had given up hope. I would have never. I would have looked for you for the rest of my life."

"I know you would have. But I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere. Olivia and I want to make our home here at Downton and raise our children at the Abbey. If you'll allow it."

"Of course! This will all be yours one day."

"One Day. Hopefully not for another twenty years. You're going to be a grandfather again! And if I had any say in it, you'd be a great-grandfather someday."

"I hope not!"

"You didn't come in here to just ask how I was? It's about Andy, isn't it?"

"I'm worried about him. He's taken to drink."

"You're always worried about him." He felt a bit of jealousy but snapped himself out of it. He was twenty-four, almost twenty-five. "He's still having nightmares. It's his way of coping. I'll give him a talking to." George took a moment, wondering what to say next. "I barely have any. I mostly dream about her. Isn't it wrong? I should be dreaming about my wife."

"No. Of course not. You were dreaming of simpler times while going through all that."

George nodded. He knows his struggles were nowhere near his father's but if he could share his experiences maybe it could help. "Last night I had a dream, well it was more of a memory really, of the day we were captured. The convoy ahead of us caught fire. I was searching for people to save." There were people screaming, dying around him. One man was holding his intestines like he was cradling an infant. "There was a man that was trapped. Have you ever seen a man being burned alive?"

Matthew shook his head. "No. After they were dead." George was thankful that his father had been spared that horror. But he had not escaped the horror of having to relive the memories, being trapped in them.

"I know it wasn't just the nightmares for you. There is also something I remembered recently, I was about four I think, we were playing and you shouted for me to get down, and pulled me under the table. I thought it was a game."

"You were four years old. You didn't know. How could you have known?" That day had almost been as frightening as when Jo had witnessed on of his silent episodes. He hadn't remembered how he had gotten under the table. He had crawled out from under it, over to the sofa. It took a long time to pull himself up, but he finally had managed, his energy spent.

"I still could have done something."

He doesn't remember that he had. He had comforted him as a parent would a child having a nightmare. It had been hamulating for him, but it had been his son that had brought him back from the brink, being surrounded by his children, as they had all curled up next to him on the bed. He missed those days. Perhaps someday with the grandchildren. Also that day had been a painstaking reminder; it would always be there, lurking in the background.

"It doesn't go away. Maybe for a time, months, years. Then you hear a balloon pop at a kid's birthday party and it all comes back."

"Oh God, dad. I'm so sorry. Andy's birthday. You were sick. It was also Beth's." A year after their baby sister had died, he had been lied up for a bit. Stillborn. Born without taking a breath. He was told when he was old enough to understand. His father had been the only one that had seen her. He had taken charge, had been the energetic and strong head figure, as he always had been. He remembered seeing him lying in bed, his strangely still form but couldn't see his face. His mother had blocked his view, between the bed and the doorway. He put the picture together in his adult mind, what expression he must have had. After they had finished with their 'game' his father had crawled out from the table and managed to make it onto the sofa (even as a young child it had been hard to watch him, to refuse help) he had had this blank vacant stare. That had been what his mother had been trying to shield him from that day.

"It was a combination of things."

Sensing the anxiousness coming of his father, he changes the subject. "I'll talk to him."

Andy was surprisingly a cautious driver after he had a few drinks, Cindy discovered as she watched the stretch of road before them. She was one of his many weekly girlfriends, but he had kept her around longer than most. He drove slowly, reducing his speed round every curb.

"I don't understand how everyone can come back from the war and just sit there with a gin and tonic, playing bridge. Playing house." It's like the whole world's gone to sleep. If I was born five years earlier, I could have joined the war effort, seen the world."

"War isn't an adventure, Cind. It was hell. People died."

"I'm sorry. You and your friends talk about it like it was."

"It helps us cope."

They pulled into the circle drive of Downton.

His mother was in the foyer as if she was waiting for him. He had come in before Cindy, not opening the car door for her, like she'd been expecting. She was probably taking a few seconds to pout.

"Mother, I'm having a guest for dinner."

"That's lovely." Her eyes sparked with interest as a woman with auburn hair walked in. The other feature Mary noticed, other than the pale, porcelain skin, just like hers but with that youthful hue. She had very long legs and green eyes. She could definitely see why this woman would appeal to him. Hopefully she could be the one.

"Cindy Jenkins." She introduced herself. There was a hint of a Scottish accent.

"I'll have Morrison set another placing for you."

Dinner was rather quiet except for Cindy who kept talking rapidly about everything and nothing. Andy kept his head down, looking at his plate, glancing up every so often. Matthew didn't take his eyes of his son, who seemed to be avoiding any eye contact. He did catch a sliver. Were his eyes bloodshot?

Suddenly Andy shouted, "Shut up! Get out. Just get out! If you don't have anything interesting to say, just shut that hole in your face!"

"What do you suppose that was that about?" Jo leaned in next to her older brother, their eyes all on Andy as he stormed out, all except Cindy who sat frozen. Hers held a look of bewilderment and fright.

George simply shrugged, not looking at his sister. He didn't want to worry her or bring her into this. He had told dad that he would talk to him. " Don't know. It was no worse than with Sophie."

Apologies were made to poor Miss Jenkins by their parents. Mary offered to call her a cab.

As it had arrived, Jo was thinking long and hard. Something wasn't right. The way Miss Jenkins had been talking at dinner, like she normally didn't talk aimlessly. She seemed rather smart. Maybe she was afraid to voice her true opinions. She wasn't like any other women, their heads full of sawdust. No, Miss Jenkins was anything but that.

She was snapped out of her thoughts as the car door opened. Before Cindy could get in, Jo called to her, 'wait!"

"Look, it's not him. Really. My dad used to drink a lot. Ever since my mother died, he blames me. I can't go through that again. I'm sorry." She hurriedly got into the cab and it drove away.

Jo found him at the stone gazebo, drinking another beer. The structure had always been there, even when their mother had been a small girl. Generations of Crawley children must have played here, running around, hiding behind the pillars.

"Most girls are ridiculous, nothing in their heads but fluff, with no interest in the way the world works than a rabbit has being pulled out of magicians hat does. No," He said solemnly, almost to himself, "No girls for me."

"I don't think she's like that at all." She was sort of hoping that they would think things through and try to work things out. That's what she gets for trying to play matchmaker, and she hadn't even planned on being one. She had thought maybe they could do good in each other lives. But the truth was, Cindy was going through a lot as well, growing up with an alcoholic father, tonight was proof of that, that she couldn't let herself get dragged into that again. Jo didn't see her brother as one. She'd only seen him drink the occasional drink. Shows how much that woman knew. She probably would have ended up bailing on him anyway, in the end, if they were to stay together, have a family. It would have been worse. Maybe it was for the best, before they really started something. She felt somewhat relieved, especially when her brother said,

"I've got other plans." That meant he was moving forward with his life.

_I did it again, drank way too much last night. Deserve it. I feel she should be with someone else, someone who doesn't have this problem. This is how I always feel after I drink. But why do I keep doing it? I'm afraid of hurting someone or myself._

_To escape and when you do that frequently, you forget that the real world is actually pretty great! You also kind of forget how to just be in the real world without the assistance of alcohol._

_It's a very liberating feeling! I was tired of myself. I wanted to see if I could reawaken, not that person I used to be, but what I felt, over there, that rush, living on the edge. I want to be that person._

_I also keep doing it because I keep telling myself that this time I'll keep control and a few drinks won't hurt. But once I have a few I keep telling myself one more won't hurt. Eventually it got to the point where I would keep drinking even though I knew I would regret it._

He could quit anytime he wanted to, if he wanted a family someday, he would have to. If he was out getting a drink every night he wouldn't be there for his wife and kids. He'd waste so much time. But first, he wanted to go back to school, maybe become a lawyer like his father.

It was embarrassing, having his brother call him out on it. His older brother showed genuine concern but when Andy put a wedge between them, he grew frustrated.

"This isn't about alcohol. This is about you feeling superior and entitled to something."

"Oh, yes, this all has to do with your title that I could never have been less interested in." He would only have taken it if George hadn't wanted it. For his father. He confronted him calmly later that evening. He knew that he had meant well, though he felt like a small child being spanked on the wrist. A puppy with it's tail between it's legs.

"You didn't have to send him on me."

"He offered to talk to you. You won't talk to anyone else."

"Was this how it was for you?" He had never spoken to mother a lot about the war. He hardly expected him to tell him about it now so he wasn't surprised when his father changed the course of the conversation, that Andy was trying to distract from.

"I stayed away from drinking, apart from occasionally. I even refused any drugs for the pain."

"You smoked a lot. Smoking is just a much a vice as any." A slight tension was building between them.

"Alcohol convinces us of things that aren't true. It tells us we are worthless, unworthy of the love of others. Alcohol lies. I saw what it did to my father, but I also saw him over come it and rebuild his life before he destroyed it. You can choose whether you allow those lies into your life every day. But first, you must equip yourself with the right tools. Take it one day at a time. It will take some planning. And it will be a lot of hard work. You can make a list."

Andy nearly laughed, half scoffed at the idea. "About what?"

"Anything. That's what I did."

"Did it help?"

"Mmm." His father replied with a nod. "It somewhat helped me come to terms with the circumstances I would have to live with after my injury."

He wanted to ask what he had done to cope with the shell shock. He never spoke of that either. Had what he done, not just what he seen maybe had resulted in it. His father would never tell him those things. He would shut him down the moment he'd ask. This was some dark secret part of his father's life, a secret part of him, that he would never know. "I try to stop but either way, I still feel terrible."

"Don't beat yourself up about it. You will only start that awful spiral. Next time you are tempted just remind yourself that you don't want to feel awful. And do something that makes you feel good. Let go of who you think you're supposed to be and embrace who you are."

"Did You?" He hadn't meant for it to come out a bit condensing.

" I accepted."

"Did you accept what it made you? Who you are now?"

"I am a husband, father, and grandfather, that I am grateful for."

To Andy it sounded like a rehearsed statement. "I mean, do you know who you are, because of it?"

Matthew had to stop his mind in its tracks and really think. He had never really asked himself that question. A soldier, a murderer. But that wasn't the question. Who was he really, at the core?

"I felt completely disconnected from who I had been before and who I had never had the chance to be because of it. I grieved the husband, the father, he might have become. I resented what it had taken from me. What I had taken from so many others." He paused, then continued on. "Then, one day I noticed that while I wasn't who I was, or could have been, there were some good things about who I had become. In fact, there seemed to be a self that was wanting to come out but I didn't know how to let him become who he wanted to be. After the fog clears, you'll suddenly realise you have no idea who you are anymore. You cannot go back to who you used to be. I spent a long time trying to go back; when that failed, I tried to imitate who I had been."

"You talk as if you were two different people."

"In a way I was, still am. You lose who you are and you ask yourself, is there any part of you that you can bring back? If you can remember who you used to be then you can identify what you valued back then and see how that aligns with what you value now. It leaves in its wake many losses; but you also gain something." He smiled at his son. "I might not have been an easy man to love at times but I have my flaws. I'm a man who will fight for my faith, what is right and for my family."

It wasn't quite what he was expecting. He didn't know exactly what his father was talking about and could hardly say he understood it all. He was inspired that he had the courage to talk about it, what the invisible battles in his mind, and the real physical battles of what had done to him. Even though his father would not disclose what he had seen or done, one could only imagine. But Andy didn't need to. He had been through war, not his father's war but they had all done things, just the same or no worse.

"Wouldn't that have been the man you'd have become anyway?"

"No. According to your mother, I always tended to see things in black and white." He smiled again and they both laughed. "You see, not everything is lost. I have many hopes for you, my son." He clasped his son's hand. "You're still young, you will find who you're supposed to be."

Not knowing what to say, he simply squeezed his father's shoulder, putting all his love behind it. He truly was a remarkable man. The world would weep when he was gone.


	3. A Long Way Home

It had been years since Sybil Branson had returned to Downton. Not completely of her own volition. Many nurses had still been needed, hospitals had almost been overflowing with soldiers. She helped where she was needed.

She looked over the towering castle of limestone, it's solid brick facade. It had been through many wars, and many threats of financial woe, withheld so many memories of tears of happiness and sorrow, but still it stood. If it could stand through all that, it could stand through everything. It would be there till the end of time.

Though it hadn't changed on the outside, everything would have changed. She had changed. Everyone had. She was Sybil Evans now. She waddled up to the door, her hand on her stomach, as if to sooth the growing baby within. She had to put in her notice, once the baby had start showing, at almost four months. She wanted to stay on through the pregnancy After the baby was born ,she could hire a nanny, and continue her schooling to become a Doctor. Her husband Killian was behind her a hundred percent, though he hadn't been quite at first. He loved that she was opinionated and outspoken, innovated, though that he had acted like it agitated him in the beginning, when they had first met. She had though he was just trying not to get close. And she had been right.

He wasn't the easiest to get on with and was always serious when she had met him. They had always butt heads and could not stand each other at first, disputting which would be the best treatment for a patient. That changed when part of their hospital had been bombed. She guessed being in a life and death situation could leave a person with a change of heart. She had found out the explanation behind his behaviour. He had never had any luck with women. When she met him, his fiancé had called off the wedding, just about a year before to marry another man. Dorothy and Killian had been lifelong childhood sweethearts. That would destroy just about anyone. It was still no excuse for how he had treated her and most of the staff. But being under pressure of war, trying to save many people as you can, and failing can take a toll on a person. Not being able to be close to someone through that hell, for Doctors and nurses were at risk just as any soldier.

But after being through it all together, their future seemed bright. He was still serious and had a hard edge about him around other people but with her it was different. She was the only one who could make him laugh or smile. She just hoped he could make it home in time, so they could be a family for a little while.

"We've come a very long way, baby. I want you to meet some people. You'll adore the lot of them, though things can get a bit crazy. But you'll like you're Uncle Matthew the best. Shh, She quieted him as she felt him move a little under the heat of her hand. She had a strong feeling that it was a boy. "It'll be our little secret."

It felt like for ever till someone came to the door. She could feel the pressure on her bladder, lately it had been babies favorite resting spot, or he was trying to get attention. He was going to be a mama's boy for sure. Morrison welcomed her in as she greeted him, glad that she was still with them. He must be getting up there in years, not much younger than her Aunt and Uncle. He had been a widower with a young boy when he had started out. In truth, his wife had left him. He had entrusted that secret to no one else but the family.

George was the first one to great her. Time stood still like a picture frame. He looked almost the exact same, apart from his limp and his use of a cane, you'd never know that he was missing a leg.

"Look at you, you're as big as a house!" He said as he approached her.

"Is that all you have to say to your dear cousin, whom you haven't seen in two years? I'm pregnant!" She had wanted it to be a surprise and had left any mention of it out of her letters. Four months ago, she didn't want to jinx it.

"So is my wife. When are you...?" He motioned toward her. Men could be ecstatic about a woman being pregnant but the same time embarrassed and amazed, carrying and growing a human being inside them. Killian had been the same way fascinated but yet, even though he was a doctor and knew the most facts of life. It was priceless to see the expression George wore on his face, like he couldn't have imagined it.

"March."

"April. They'll arrive just about the same time then!"

She didn't ask how he was doing or how his leg was doing. He seemed to be taking it in stride, from what she heard last from him last, his letters had sounded a bit gloomy. Of course he was happier, he was married to her best friend and about to be a father! Their children would grow up together, as they had. She and George had always thought of each other as siblings. Olivia was her honorary sister. And she and Olivia were going to be mother's at the same time! Josephine and Carrie already where. Noah was already four months and Mattie was a year old, but that wouldn't make much difference. She had heard a lot about them, what personality's they had. It must be fascinating to watch your baby grown into their own person.

Mattie was very talkative, even if it was a few words, most of it babble. Her grandfather Matthew was her favourite person at the moment and who could blame her. He had been like a second father to Sybil. She had never had a mother figure in her life. She suppose she would never know what it would be like to have one. One thing she knew for sure, she'd be the best mother she could to to her son. That space would never be filled but Uncle Matthew had taken up some of that space in her life. Her two fathers, better than one. She couldn't wait to tell Uncle Matthew the news. Two grandchildren, about to have a third, and now a great-nephew!

Downton would be full of Crawley children, as it should be. She'd always make sure that they would get to spend time together, that she'd get to come down often with the baby. It was impossible to imagine that Uncle Matthew had nearly died. She would make up for the lost time as much as she could.

Olivia came down the stairs, her hand on the small of her back. She tried to rush over to Sybie. The two young woman could barely get their arms around each other.

"There is no way, I'm missing out on this." Aunt Mary descended that stairs. Sybil saw her more as an Auntie. She would be quite jealous or hurt if she told her Aunt the way she felt about Uncle Matthew. She didn't want to hurt Uncle Bertie's feelings either. She was close to Uncle Matthew. They had far more in common.

Mary could only hug her niece from the side. She looked so much like her mother except for the dent in her chin, the same Josephine has. Which side of the family had that come from? And Tom's eyes. They were blue like her sister's but his were a different shade, more of a greyish colour.

She heard stories of her mother, what kind of person she was. She had heard from many people that she was brave and fierce, wasn't afraid to show her opinion. Sybie wouldn't exactly count herself a brave, not fully. The first time she had assisted tending a patient's wound, she had nearly fainted.

Her father had described her as the brightest star in the sky. Before her mother had left to be a nurse in the first Great War, they had gone for a picnic in the Yorkshire fields, under that stars. When Sybie had been five or six, her father had laid out the spread, and pointed out a star.

_"Just find the brightest one in the sky, and she's not that far behind it."_

Aunt Mary would sometimes attend their little picnic's. She and Uncle Matthew would have their own little ones inside, on rainy days. He couldn't get down on the ground as easily and he would have to have someone help him up, if there wasn't anything to grab on to. Yet she remembered him on the floor with them when they were young children.

She'd not heard many stories from him. She knew her mother helped nurse his injuries he had received in the first war, and she had taken care of him, only what a little girl's mind could comprehend.

_"You were with mama when she died?" She had asked him one day. _She frequently would ask him about her throughout her childhood, when she would forget.

_"A lot of people were with her. She wasn't alone."_

He would never really say much else. He would shy away from that particular topic.

Looking back at it now, she could say that it was as if he had felt guilty. The little girl hadn't noticed, not knowing such adult feelings. She then had climbed up on his lap, playing with the pocket watch on it's chain, attached to his waist coat. It had such pretty scribblings on it which she could not yet read.

_"It was a gift from a friend. He gave it to me before he died."_

_"Who are you going to give it to?" She inclined her head up at him. The corners of his mouth were turned into a frown. Had she said something wrong? Her father was calling for her then. Uncle Matthew held onto her arm as she slid down from his lap._

And one day she had told her, that it wasn't her fault anymore than it was his. _He had believed that for a long time. He had felt that he was guilty. He wouldn't want me to do the same. _

"You have us miss out on your wedding." Aunt Mary continued.

"I was planning on having a party before the little one arrives."

"Crawley's can't make an entrance without making any fan fare." Andy appeared around the corner. He had changed the most out of all of them. He was broader around the soldiers. Probably from all that army training. He had filled out nicely, but he still had remnants of the lanky teenager he had once been, with his long spindly legs.

"Or Branson's." Tom came through the door, juggling luggage. Morrison took them from him. "Do you think I'd let her come all this way by herself?" He teased. "All the way from Boston no less!"

It was like a small family reunion gathered in the foyer. The only person missing was Uncle Matthew. Sybil tried to see around them all to see if he was coming.

"Are you really going to be moving to Boston?" Carrie sounded upset at the thought, that her cousin's visit would be short, only to move on the other side of the ocean, after two long years. "We thought Jo was going to live in America. But Nick found a theatre in London."

"He's really enjoying it." Jo said.

"Killian's looking for a practice near London. Once he finishes his last tour." There was one follow up patient, a young sergeant he had wanted to see through to recovery.

Kate offered to put in a good word at the hospital where she used to work.

"It keeps him busy. We'll have a lot of time on our hands with the children." Jo continued. "But there's a lot of young girls in the village that can help out. I won't be back to teaching for a while. If I decide to get back to it at all."

"And they'll have their other Aunt and Uncle." Kate chimed in, putting an emphasis on it as to make sure they were not left out, although that wasn't in the realm of possibility.

"You'll have all the hands you'll need." Andy replied. He liked this new existence as an Uncle. Another reason to stop drinking. Perhaps this wasn't a good time to mention he was thinking of law school?

The young women started to all talk at once. Mary noticed that her niece was growing anxious and uncomfortable.

"Girls, I'm sure that your cousin and Uncle Tom won't to get settled."

"It's no trouble at all. All the cousins getting together is a rare variety. Where's Uncle Matthew?"

"He'll be down shortly." Her Aunt said, reassuringly, that she didn't need to worry. "Is there anything that you need?"

"Not anything I would want anyone to help me with. I really need to use the loo." They all smiled and laughed.

She could still hear it as she ascended to the top of the stairs and they were no longer in view. As if everything could just go back to normal. Could it really? She really did need to go use the loo. After she was done, she snuck off to her Uncle's room.

She had always had happy memories with him.

Once she had gone to the theatre with him and after went out for dinner. Aunt Mary hadn't felt like going with us that day so we went just the two of us. They had many interests in common, history being one. He loved to share his father's old medical books with her. Her aspiration came more from that than her the heroine tales of her mother's nursing days. They were silent the rest of the evening.

When she went up to check how he was doing the started talking about her. He had rarely ever did. Now they talked at length about her mother.

_March 1947_

Sybie went into labor in the early hours of the morning. She was staying at Dowton, wanting to give birth at the abbey. Her father was anxious and uncertain, the fear of the memory of his losing his young wife. Of course Sybie had to go into the medical aspect that medicine had advanced in the last thirty years. It did somewhat calm him. She was planning to stay until a few months after the baby was born. Killian wanted to deliver his child himself but the midwife said it would be unorthodox, a father's place was to wait outside the room. Someday that will change, he had grumbled. Matthew smiled at the interaction.

As the rest of the family waiting in the Great Hall, Matthew and George went into the library. He wanted to talk to his son. Lately he had noticed the quietness between him and Olivia. He asked him about it, as George shut the door behind them.

"Is everything going alright?"

"Of course, why wouldn't it be?" He smiled but he knew his father could see through it.

"I mean with you and Olivia."

"Just anxious about becoming new parents."

"You can tell me. I'll understand."

There was no way he was going to let his father fix his marriage. He had other things he needed to deal with before the baby was born. "No, you won't!"

Matthew seemed momentarily surprised at his sudden outburst.

"Sorry. When I get frustrated..."

"I know." They were more alike in one way that George had cared to admit. "my marriage between me and your mother was never perfect."

"I told Olivia about Sophia." George suddenly blurted out. He had to get it out in the open. And he could tell no one else. He certainty wouldn't want to tell him mother. He didn't know why he wanted to confide in his father, he just had this thing about him, that made you want to. He felt his father was the most judgmental person, most religious people were, but he really wasn't like that, George rationalised. Still he couldn't help but study his father's face. His expression was passive. The war had made it easy for him to hide things. George wished it was that way for him.

As his son told him that he had been intimate with this woman, he recalled the day that Mary had told him about Pamuk. The difference was that George loved this woman.

"I think I might already be a father. Before we were captured we suspected." His voice was small and low.

Why do his children think he'd be disappointed in them when they made a mistake? Carrie had a child by a different father, a married man, at barely seventeen. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together but no one else had figured it out and was determined to keep it that way. Mary didn't know that he knew. Then there was Andy and his drinking. He hadn't quit completely but he had been consuming far less, as inclined by his improved behavior. And then there was Josephine, her female lovers. Charlotte and then Annie. He had warned Josephine to stay away from that woman. Annie Carrington was nothing but caring. She had been foul and vile, playing with his daughter's emotions. Fate had intervened, not a fate he'd wish on anyone, when her plane had crashed. She was still recovering in the countryside in Scotland, she had family there.

He accepted his daughter but didn't understand it. He was worried and frightened for her, what the scandal would do to her. It was good that she had moved to America. He had told her that he had always known she was different and wouldn't, couldn't despise her, repeating what he had said to her mother all those years ago. His effort to show her that he wasn't disappointed seemed to have been in vain.

He felt that it had but a wedge between him and his eldest daughter, that he hadn't trusted her to make the wise decision on her own. She had rebuffed the young woman's advances at first, some things where then reciprocated but it all stopped when she had tried to come between her marriage.

And his dear Katie, he couldn't think of any mistake she had made, or she just hadn't confided in him.

His father's expression remained unchanged. _Say something will you?_ George wanted to shout, shake him, do something, at least be given a hint of what was going on in his mind. _Tell me what a failure I am._ "Well, aren't you going to say something?"

"I see." Matthew simply said.

_That's all?_ He hadn't know what to expect. Maybe some advice on what to do? Would his father insist that he find her. Make things right, somehow, if it were true? But instead, nothing. "I can't look for her now. If she is..."

"That's your child. You should know..." There was a possible grandchild out there. He couldn't believe that George would be willing to abandon it. The could come up with a decision...no, he had to respect George's wishes. This would up heave their family no matter what was decided.

"It'll ruin what I have with Olivia." What was left of it. At least he could salvage it if she didn't know. "She doesn't know that part of it. I did tell her about our relationship. She said she understood. We weren't together then but..." A sadness and longing shone in his son's eyes, "she thinks I don't love her. That can't be further from the truth. I do love her."

"But are you in love with her?"

"Yes." George surprised himself. He supposed he had for longer than he had known.

"Then tell her."

"She won't believe me."

"Then keep telling her." He put his hand on his son's and they both beamed brightly. "Whatever you do...whatever mistakes that you make, I will never be disappointed in you, maybe for a while, but I'm you're father. That goes for all of you. You're my children."

The door opened. Mary announced the new arrival. "She's had the baby!"

"Boy or a girl?" Matthew asked.

"Killian and Tom are with her now. They won't let anyone else up for awhile." She spoke calmly, not to alarm them. "The doctor said there might be something wrong."

Matthew tried not to let the fear grip him, that the same fate that had befallen her mother would claim her daughter. He knew Tom had to have been thinking it too.

* * *

Sybie had given birth to a boy in the early hours of the morning. Gilbert "Gilly" Evans was born a blue baby which meant he had a weak heart. He wasn't expected to live past infancy. But he defied all odds and the past several months he grew and thrived, losing his bluish-grey hue. He was a stickler like his great Uncle Matthew and all the other Crawley's long before him. A genetic predisposition, Tom had a heart murmur that had been misdiagnosed during the first war and had prevented him from joining. The murmur was actually a symptom of a congenital heart disease. Gilly would require before he turns one year old, ideally at around 6 months. Tom was against the surgery, that he was living proof that Gilly did not need it. But it was up to the parents. Gilly was having shortness of breath and it would improve his quality of life.

It was hard for Killian to be around his son because he was around sick people all the time at the hospital in London. He had spent more time at their home there.

She sought her Uncle's advice. No one else she really trusted.

A very calm, gentle and patient man who was very generous with his time, love and guidance. He could also be tough but fair and was the one who kept things in line. A true gentleman in every sense of the word whom she respected and loved with all her heart. Her only Uncle she'll ever have. She asked his opinion about weather or not she should go through with surgery against her father's wishes, avoiding bringing up her problems with Killian.

"Only you can decide what you think is right."

It is the best thing in the world to have a niece. The only one he'll ever have. Jay was his nephew, Edith's and Bertie's only son, (he had been lucky that the war had ended before he would come of age, missing it by a year.) but they didn't have a special bond like he did with his niece.

_When she was born I was afraid to hold her at first. Then her sparkling eyes and the most beautiful toothless smile brought tears of joy in my eyes and my heart ached. Not for the loss of her mother, but for pure love._

It had made him anxious to become a father. Their connection was so close, that she could have easily been one of his own.

Now she feared for her own child's life, that was hanging in the balance. He would be here for her if the worst were to happen, like he always was.


	4. The Beaten Path

To celebrate the birth of his cousin, Andy went down to the pub. Billy Morrison, the butler's son was at his usual spot, at the counter. Gesturing him over, Billy offered to buy him one. Tempting, but he declined it.

"I'm cutting back."

"Cutting back is for wimps." Billy slid the glass down to him. After a moments hesitation, Andy slid it back but it didn't make it's way down the counter as smoothly. The glass tipped over, the contents spilling onto Billy's lap. He jumped up, swearing at Andy for wasting a perfectly good brew. He started to stagger toward Andy, clearly in a drunken rage.

They had gotten in a few tussles a few times but nothing that had ever really escalated. The man who named one's personality by the type of drink. Once he had compared to Jo as a class of champagne,(Jo hadn't been present of course) she was sexy, classy, and probably easy if he got a few drinks in her. That had made Andy take a swing at him, defending his sister's honor. Billy confessed that he had never touched her. She was weird about it but they had kissed a few times, that was all. Andy had shoved his drunk ass onto the floor.

When things calmed down, Andy was curious about what he had meant and asked "What do you mean by weird?"

He told him he had seen some boy harassing her, wanting her to kiss him but she had refused. The boy had called her a 'cold fridged bitch" wanting to see if the rumors were true about her being like her mother, I guess. And then he pushed her up against a fence. I scared him off when he saw me."

"When was this?"

"A few years ago. When she was still in school."

Billy became a different person when he drank, depending on how drunk, the more easily angered he would become. The past year Andy had been dependent on him buying his beers. Mechanics didn't make that much especially with after the war. That would make anyone angry. The alcohol fueled his rage. He had been banned from joining the army due to his drinking and arrest record of public intoxication.

Now, as Billy was going for him, his fist out, Andy was able to dodge him. The lack of coordination sending him crashing into a table. More beer was spilled as the glasses shattered on the floor.

Two patrons came over and grabbed Billy, getting him up off the floor. Andy thanked them and told them he;d take him home but Billy shoved him off lightly, telling him to piss off. And he staggered out the door. Andy decided to stay, but after a few minutes, the two men followed out after Billy. His instincts taking over, Andy went out after them. When he got outside three men were stomping on him.

Andy tried to quickly defuse the situation. He was checking on Billy, trying to get him to the car when they all came back with a crowd. They started talking tough and trying to goad me into fighting. I was just focused on getting my friend home or to the hospital.

Then, a man comes out of the bar and asks, what's going on?" At that point, one of the men punched him and his head hit the ground with a sickening thwack sound.

_I don't remember the fight. This is what witnesses told me happened. I immediately lunged onto the guy that had punched the innocent by-stander, who turned out to be the bar's owner, and hit him many times on the way to the ground. Then, choked him until the other two grabbed me. Apparently, I kicked one in the face and tackled the other in quick order. Then, one of their girlfriends jumped on his back and he flipped her on top of the guy I'd choked out._

_Its obvious to me now that my flight or fight was stuck on fight and fight like a soldier._

_I was forever golden at that bar. They warned people not to screw with me. I got free beers and food for months. Something was still missing in my life._

As the laughter quieted and the bar started to clear, he saw a woman with red hair sitting at the end of the bar that reminded him of Cindy.

* * *

_The Summer 1945 I was invited to a river party and met a nice young lady, Cindy Jenkins, she was eighteen, a year younger than me. One thing lead to another and we ended up skinny dipping._

_We were at a local river where a group of people chipped in and bought a lot. Everyone was drinking and smoking, the kind that wasn't normal tobacco. We were blitzed. So, my new lady friend and I took a walk down to the river. We swam and made out and stuff. Then, when we got out, our clothes were missing. So, me being me, I walked up to the campfire where about ten or so folks were sitting and still drinking._

_One of them said, "You're a pervert, there's kids here", There might have been a few older teens, but no children present. Still I apologized, being the gentlemen I was taught to be. But, they weren't having it._

_ Cindy showed up with our clothes. Someone had taken my wallet and her money from her pants pocket and she was pissed. She was also the daughter of the man who was heckling me. His eyes went wide when he saw her, standing there, stark in the nude. He jumped up, slapped her, called her a whore._

_I told him I would defend her honor. Well, all six men or so got up and formed a mob. My naked friend was being called names. I'd had enough. So, I told them to bring it. Her dad punched me in the nose. It hurt, but I stood my ground and said, "You hit like a child, do it again." He obliged._

_By that point, I thought my nose was broken and I was crying tears of pain. Not sobbing, it just hurt and was involuntary. The men stopped, satisfied. I had known by sizing them up that a few punches would be enough to satisfy them. They had misjudged my scrawny size, though I had build up some muscle in the army. Cindy asked if I was alright as I got up. __Her father then threw my wallet and her money down at her feet._

_Cindy said she'd drive me home and told her dad she'd be back. He was still cussing and calling her names._

_Instead we went to a hotel far out of town, after we drove and drove._

_She put the car in park, kissed me passionately, told me that was the most dangerous thing she had ever seen and she was madly in love with me. She payed for the room and offered me the key first so I could go get cleaned up. I went into the bathroom, washed my face. Surprisingly, no broken nose but no doubt would leave some bruises. Still handsome though I was pasty as hell and looked like crap. _

_She came in without knocking, putting her arms around me. __We took a shower together and afterwards had passionate sex._

_She was worth the bruises. I won't ever forget her kindness and abandoning her father. He was an abusive drunk. She didn't go back to living with him._

Andy payed monthly for the hotel room, secretly with his allowance, for her to live there. Soon it would be better and she would be living the life of luxury, he told her.

They married when she turned twenty-one. At twenty-two she gave birth to their daughter, Harriett. Harriett Spencer Crawley. The small families little dream come true, their fairy tale life would soon end.

* * *

_1950_

_I remember every second of it. We were hit square in the side. The truck flipped and time slowed to a crawl. I was ejected just as the truck rolled the first time. I pulled myself back into the window just before I hit the pavement and held on for what seemed like an eternity as two more rolls happened._

_I can only assume this is the same thing that happens during a fight. My senses are heightened. This and my quick wit saved my life._

_Cindy had been killed instantly on impact, where the truck had hit on the passenger side._

* * *

**AN: Very short chapter but I assure you the next chapter will be longer! Can't wait! I plan to go back a few years, leading up to the above event. How he got back with Cindy, the arrival of George and Olivia's son, "little George' and his family being inform of Andy's accident. History repeating itself, in a way. Instead of Matthew getting into a car crash, in 1921, Andy has the car crash. But hopefully he gets out unscathed! I go wherever the wind takes me. More happy, happy moments for the Crawley family to come!**


	5. I'll Wait For You

_April 1947_

The real feeling of becoming a father can never be expressed in words like his father had described but at the same time he felt like a fraud. He could be a father already.

His suitcase had been mysteriously delivered to him, a few months ago. There was a tag on the handle with his name. George M. Crawley. His mother had asked about the initial. He wasn't given a middle name so he had given himself one, he told her. "It's dad's." He had taken his dad's name as his middle name, as his father's middle name was his father's. In a way it would be a tradition. He also sometimes went by George M.R. Crawley, the R standing for Robert, his maternal grandfather. But he preferred George M Crawley.

The war office had sent it but didn't disclose were they had gotten it from. He knew. The last whereabouts were with her. He couldn't be sure but deep in his gut he knew. She had to be the one who sent it. That had to mean that they were alive. Or maybe he had never had it with him when he stayed with her.

That afternoon, Olivia went into labor. They drove down to the village hospital, a suitcase already packed. The whole drive was spent talking about how George had over packed for her and what to name the baby. It was like she was hardly feeling the contractions at all, till the closer they got to the hospital, it seemed.

Matthew even let her use his wheelchair and pushed her in. Quickly a nurse transferred her over to one of theirs. It was like a three ring circus, well, what major event for the Crawley's wasn't? This was the arrival of a potential heir.

_I will never forget that forty minutes. Nurse took her to delivery. I was waiting for the results in the waiting room. I was praying to almost all gods for good health of my child, thinking of Gilly, and for Olivia. And after few minutes the wait is over, the door of the delivery room opened. The nurse came out, addressing me,_

_"Mr. Crawley" The next half second was like an hour to me. The whole world became mute. "It's a boy!" She said with smile._

_"How is..." I barely seem to be able to get the words out, as if I might jinx it._

_"Both are doing well." She said. "And as healthy as can be. Mother did exceptionally well."_

_Smile on all faces. A feeling of big relief._

_After one hour all the family members were gathered around Olivia . She was in a subconscious state left over from the gas. I moved close to her. She looked at me. For all our surprise, she raised her hand and started finding mine. I reached out to her but she was unable to judge the distance and even direction of where my hand actually is. Finally I hold her hand._

_After two days I felt several rays of emotions, a mix of fear, excitement, responsibility, stress, smiles and tear all at same time. Now my life became more significant as I became father._

_"Have you decided on a name?" My own father asks._

_"We have. We named him George Weston Crawley." I tell the family as they come in to see him._

_"Little George." As Olivia says it, his tiny fingers curl around hers. "Or he can go by his middle name when he's older. Whatever he decides." His mother manages before she's pulled into sleep._

_Little George is 8 months old now. When I see him, I literally feel like I am looking into the mirror. You come to find that every hope and dream you have, every joyous moment in your life, having a child tops them all. Your hopes and dreams become the safety and protection, the best life for your child. There wasn't anything you wouldn't do for them. I wish there was something that I could do for Gilly, born with a heart defect. He could require surgery to have it correct, maybe multiple as he got older. I can't imagine myself in that situation, my dad arguing against it. I can't imagine a small baby being cut open and being operated on. I guess I can see where Uncle Tom is coming from. Gilly was older and strong enough for his operation now, six months to a year was recommended. Nine months old still seemed far too young. Little George was a chuck compared to him. They shared the same cot in the night nursery. His rail thin legs and spindly arms contrasted to George's pudgy ones. Sybie's husband was uppity about it, worried that Little George would roll over him at night, as if he were more fragile than he was._

_"They don't sleep in the same cot at night." Sybie said. "He's not that fragile."_

_A few days later Gilly was having trouble with his breathing. Within less than a minute, they were taking him to the hospital for his operation. Uncle Tom would be informed later, though I'm sure how that would turn out. I opted to stay and hope for the best. Right now, I had to be with my own son. I was surprised when the door to the nursery opened and Jo had come in._  
_"Sorry for being away so long." Her eyes looked downcast and shadowy, "forgive me?"_

_"No." She whipped her head around to look at me with an angry glare. I smiled. "It helps to know what you're apologising for."_

_"I feel horrible telling you this but I didn't want to be around you, after you came home from the hospital...things just got real. I felt like you weren't my brother anymore. I was so stupid, of course you were, how could I think that. My instinct was to run away from you." She closed her eyes as tears ran down her face. "I was the same way with dad when he was sick. That's why I ran away to America. That makes me the worst daughter and sister in the world because what kind of daughter is scared to be with her dying dad or with her brother who needed her."_

_"He's not dying now. And you're not horrible. Because if anyone tries to get close to you, you tend to flee? Because when you don't know how to face a situation your first instinct is to run? It's human instinct."_

_"Not really a good excuse."_

_"If you're worried that you're a "bad" person you probably aren't." I nudged her with his shoulder the way we used to when we were children. We both laughed._

_A yawn emitted from one of the cots in the corner. One year old Noah was waking up from his nap. He'd be two next month, in February. Jo went over to check on him. He was playing with his ear._

_"One thing I know for sure I'm not running away again, not for Gilly, and certainty not for this little chap!" She picked him up, happily. Olivia soon joined us, then accompanied by our father._

"So this is where everyone went off to." Matthew came into the room. He was frequent to the nursery especially since Carrie and Miles moved to London. He missed his Mattie girl. He adored and loved his grandson's but it just wasn't the same. He hoped if Andy ever got married, and soon, he would be the one to have a girl.

"Being around the young children was the best medicine to take his mind of Gilly. He had spent the last several hours praying for the success of the surgery and that he wouldn't have to face painful complications. He would hopefully not remember it at such a young age.

"How are you feeling, Papa?" Jo asked as she placed Noah against her shoulder, who started to squirm as soon as he saw his grandfather. Or it could be just a coincidence that he was a wiggly baby.

"Never been better." Jo gave an expression that said she didn't quite believe it. He was worried about Gilly. And then there was HIS health that she was probably worried about.

"Papa!" Noah chirped, reaching his arms out to his grandfather.

"I'll hand you to Grandfather once he sits down first."

"Mmmm...no." Noah pointed his finger in the air as if to make a statement.

Matthew sat down as Jo handed him to him.

"No question where he gets his attitude from." George said.

"Are you having a party in here?" Mary was last to join them. "Where's Andy?"

"Who knows." Her oldest replied. "Probably out getting plastered."

"Hopefully not." Mary had taken off her gloves and set them on the back of a chair. She went up behind where Matthew was sitting, rubbing his shoulders. His jaw was set, keeping something in. Massaging his shoulders loosened all his muscles.

Noah did not stay long in his grandfather's lap. He was soon sliding off it and down onto the floor, crawling over to his toys.

As every else left the room, one by one, Olivia and George remained.

"There's something I need to talk to you about."

"The whole families been praying. Even the whole congregation..."

"I don't mean about Gilly. I mean about..." George gestured with his hands. "us."

"We're alright."

"No. I want us to be more than alright." He went to touch her arm. "I love you. What can I prove..."

"You can't prove it." For a moment his face fell, almost believing there was no chance to fix things. "Because you don't need to." His eyes fluttered up to her in amusement and utter surprised. She put a hand to his face. " it can bee seen, it can be felt." She took his hand and looked down at their son, in what we created. Prove is not the right word. In my opinion, loving someone is the biggest thing in itself. if it's whole hearted and took her face in her hands and kissed her.

"Do you love me unconditionally?"

"Yes, of course!. What I said before came from a place of hurt. You loved some other woman before me. And I thought, he cannot possibly love me more or the same..."

"That doesn't matter. What we have is a special love that no one else has. If you love me, you can trust me.

"Yes, I've said...I never said you had to prove it to me. If someone loves you they can see it. And I can."

"Oh my darling." Oh thank God. But I'm sorry for what I'm about to say. "I'm so sorry...what I'm about to tell you. I have to tell you something." He's about to tell her, he really wants to get this burden off his chest. But is it really the best in the midst of this situation? His cousin is going through a frightening ordeal, and he's worried about his problems. Just making excuses to get out of it.

Jo popped her head into the room. "Gilly's out of surgery!"

They all went down to the hospital together, eager as they had waited for Little George's birth. But this was different. Something could go wrong, there could be complications.

Andy was the last one to arrive, surprisingly not wrecking of booze. George thought. Imagine the devastation. If he was living it up somewhere, while baby his cousin could die. He slid onto the bench next to George. "Do they know what's going on yet?"

George shook his head, biting back his anger. The family didn't need this right now.

It took hours for the doctor to come out. The surgery was a success. That was all the could say to the family. Sybie told them later that it had gone so well that he most likely wouldn't need any revision as he got older. Catch it early. He could still not be out of the woods. But they did not immediately think the worst. The Crawley's had too much of that in their lifetime.

George took his younger brother to the side as they family displayed their relief and tears of joy.

"Where you been? Off with a girl?"  
"How'd you know?" Andy asked excitedly, failing to notice his brother seriousness. Sometimes he could though. Becoming a father had turned him into somewhat of a know it all snob. "I've been looking for Cindy, remember her? I was able to track her down.

He grabbed Andy's arm, his fingernails almost digging in. "Your cousins in there, fighting for his life and you're off chasing tail?"

"Don't talk about her like that!" He snatched his arm forcibly from his grip.

"I'll talk anyway I please."

"Boys!" Their mother caught on to their raised voices. "Now's not the time. Be civil."

""Yes, Andrew, please do." George gritted.

"We're not boys anymore mother. You have the war to thank for that."

"Matthew?" Mary asked, seeking his support. He did not reply, not wanting to get involved. There were more pressing matters at hand. Weather his great Nephew would live or die could still be hanging in the balance, even though the surgery had gone to plan.

"We'll talk later." He muttered, beside George but it was unclear who he was speaking to. His father's head was down, his hat shielding his eyes, but George could tell he was gazing at his hand, his fingers running over a long scar. Why hadn't he seen it before? He must have gotten it in the first war. He doubted that his father would tell him how he had gotten it. His war, parts of it, were still an unspoken wound.

* * *

"What's on your mind, darling?" Mary asked him. They were both sitting up in bed. Mary was reading a magazine.

"Just worried about the family."

"Gilly?"

"All of them. Not just the boys. Or the girls. They all did mighty fine for themselves."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Sophia."

"The American that left George?"

"No. The...the one from France. I think I may have found something. Where they are." He had never told her about what George had told him, nine months ago. They could have another grandchild out there. He thought about George's words, it might cause more trouble than it's worth. Still he wants to know what's happened to this child, if there was one. George had also recently confided in him that he could possibly be married to this woman by a friend of hers that they could hadn't been anything formal. He wanted to ask George if he used his birth certificate, but they had been interrupted by the severe news that had surrounded Gilly's birth (that he'd eventually need surgery) and then his own son had just been born. If he had the marriage would be legal and binding. If it was a boy, it would dethrone Little George as future heir. And he would he the illegitimate child.

He didn't care about that but there would still be a big upheaval. George and Olivia had just gotten to a good place, it might just undo all that. And then, what was he to do if he discovered there was a child? He or she could be the only family this woman has. What right would he have to try to take that away from her? He couldn't have sent for it, it would have alerted the War office and they would have been able to find him. He had a strong doubt of the authenticity of the marriage. But that wasn't the end of his worried. What if she was alive and she had been pregnant and she wanted money from them? No. He thought about what George had said about her.

If this woman really loved his son, she would do no such thing. But he would be ready to negotiate if it came to that. He was becoming frustrated with himself. He needed to stop with the what ifs. This was all theoretical. There possibly wasn't a child. If Sophia and her daughter were still alive, it was a big if. The lead could mean nothing. He might stir up something if he found out she was alive. Perhaps he should leave it alone. She could have been killed and that would hurt his son just as hard.

"You're going to tell George?"

"Should I?" At least he would tell him that he was sure the marriage between him and Sophia wasn't legalised, set his mind at ease. But he had went against his wishes, trying to find her. "He told me he didn't want me to find her. What do you think I should do?

"Follow your heart, darling." She put her arms around him and kissed his cheek, as she had always done ever since she was young and beautiful. Who was he kidding? She was still young and beautiful to him. She would always be.

George rarely had any nightmares, if he did, he didn't remember any of them. This time he did.

He was being shot at, and he was running. Running away from the bullets instead of toward them, heading instead toward a wooded area. He had escaped the Germans. No one was going to keep him prisoner. Then he felt something white hot shoot through his leg.

He was tumbling down an incline, and rolled into a creak. Two big hands grabbed him before he could drown.

He woke up, gasping, hands pulling him up from the water. He was soaking wet. He was in the bath. Now he remembers. He had drifted off, relaxed by the lure of the hot water, and the combination of exhaustion from a baby that refused to sleep. He blinked the water away from his eyes to see who it was but his eyes stung.

""What the bloody hell, man?" It was Andy's voice. He turned to leave the room, shaking his head. But there had been fear and worry in his brothers eyes.

He was helped out of the tub by Morrison and the footman. A routine he had gotten used to. Olivia was too short to do it herself. Olivia, who had been nothing but supportive since the beginning, and he had been nothing but horrible to her. Not just from keeping Sophia from her and the fact that he might have a possible love child. Imagine the horror and mess it would make (not just for Olivia. His parents would have the stigma of having an illegitimate child in the family. With Carrie it had been different of course. He was in the direct sight of the peerage. That was why he hadn't wanted his father to look for them. Even if there was a child.) If it was a boy and his marriage to Sophia was legal, Olivia's son, their son would have nothing. Either way one of them would be illegitimate. Illegitimate children couldn't inherit. That had never mattered to Olivia, the inheritance, and knew she would still love him all the same, but still, it was a betrayal. He had also treated her so unkindly in the first several weeks he had returned home. And she had stood by his side through his moods. He wondered why she still loved him.

Once he was dry and dressed, he went to go see where his wife was.

Olivia was in the nursery, folding the baby clothes.

"The nanny can do that." He said.

"I want to do it. It gives me something to do." Why did they not have any other words to say to each other? He wanted to talk to her. "Is there anything you wanted to talk about? You said there was something you wanted to tell me."

"It was nothing." He scratched the back of his head. Then he decided that he should say something else, before she caught on. Well what he would tell her wouldn't be a lie. "actually it was about her. I wanted you to know that meant nothing. Emotions run high in war. That's all it was."

I know." She came up to him and gave him a kiss. "I want to make this place nice and tidy for when Gilly arrives home, perhaps something special?"

"I'll talk to Carrie. She's the decorative one. She's bound to have ideas." He kissed her back and she happily left the room.

His father entered on her way out. "Son. I need to have a word with you." There was a hesitance in his voice. He was unsure of something. Was it his health? "I don't know how to put this...I thought it would put your mind at ease."

"Just get on with it, dad, I haven't got all day."

"It's about Sophia. I know I went against your wishes and I shouldn't have..."

"You found her?" He wasn't angry or upset that he had. He sounded hopeful.

"No. Not exactly."

"Then how exactly is that supposed to put my mind at ease? More like yours. What did you expect to do, if you found her, found out that she gave birth to my little brat? Pay her off?"

"Son..."

"I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't do that." George's heart sunk." I don't know why I said that." It was one of his lowest points, to accuse his father of something of the caliber. His father hadn't a bone of malicious intent in his body. "I'm just frustrated." He uses his crutches to sit down in the arm chair that seemed far to big and about to swallow him up. "I haven't told Olivia. I wanted to tell her. She knows she's not my first love and she's accepted that but this? I can't tell her this. That I slept with another woman, that I could...Have a child out there. That I'm not even married to her. That I'm married to some woman from a far of country that I barley knew on a whim Some fantasy life." He rubbed his eye. "I've potentially ruined my life, our lives. I know you were expecting the perfect little prince."

"I don't expect you to be perfect, and I'm not judging you."

""Sounds like you are." He took a pause.

"Still frustrated?" He asked his son, furrowing his brow.

"Sorry." George apologised once more.

"You're not married." His father continued, once his son was done brooding. He was far too old for that. He might take after him but he got his attitude, when it came to confrontation, things he didn't want to face, from his mother. Always deflective and a chip on the shoulder.

"What?" George had to tighten his jaw to keep it from falling open. A million things raced through his mind. He wasn't married to Olivia. He somehow had known it.

"You're not married to Sophia."

"Well thanks for clearing that up." He had nearly given him a heart attack. "Are you sure?"

His father put his hand on his shoulder. "It was done in another country and you didn't have your birth certificate."

"But we had witnesses."

"Doesn't matter. She could be dead." He hadn't meant it to come out that way. He was going to correct himself but he didn't have time.

"I loved her. Well, I think I did. I can't be sure or if it was just the war. I'd know if I saw her again." He rubbed his eye again. Why did it feel so itchy?

"We can't be sure she's alive."

"It would be best for all of us. Wouldn't it?"

"Don't talk like that."

"But you were thinking it. And I don't fault you. We both were. After all you've been through, It's not fair to leave you with my mess to clean up."

"That's what parents do for their children. In time you'll understand." He squeezed his shoulder again.

"I want you to stop, dad. Don't do this to yourself. Put it to rest." He slightly laughed. "Thought I'd be saying that to myself. Not to you." He turned to look at his father. "I mean it." He didn't want this to be the reason he was run into his grave, searching for a child that may not exist. But he knew his father. Once he got his mind on something, he wouldn't quit. "At least...if you find something, I don't want to know about it.

His father nodded. "I can accept that. But you will need to tell her."

"It's not really me you should be worried about. Andy was out late, when we couldn't reach him, before Gilly's birth and during his surgery. I know where he was. He was with a woman. Cindy Jenkins."

"Oh, yes. I remember her." He went along, knowing his son was trying to distract him from his own problems and put the attention on his brother.

"I think she's a bad influence on him."

"You, stay out of your brother's business this time. Last time it went disastrous."

"It was your idea."

"Hence why it was disastrous." They both smiled. "He'll come round. And I actually think the young lady might do him some good."

"What world are you living in?"

* * *

Kate joined Roy and his mother for tea, to announce their engagement to her, before the rest of the family. There was to be an engagement party of course and dancing, though Kate didn't want one. It seemed so daunting, going back to that life. They were joined by Roy's brother Ivo, and Sir Oscar Manning, that had been a long time companion of the Dowager Wroughton since her husband's death. Manning was a renowned painter. While they talked of art, parties and cricket, Kate saw it as a welcome distraction. Having no interest in the topics, she could find a way to bring up the good news. Then Manning had brought up nursing. She talked about her training, how she wanted to continue studying it. The conversation was radio silence.

Roy found it the right time to announce the wedding. That would be set for June or July. She overheard them talking about it, when The Dowager pulled him aside.

"An Earl's daughter, you can't do any better than that. But she will have to drop this silly dream. The war is over. The Lord Wroughton isn't going to be married to a nurse. Her duties come first."

She wished he would stand up to his mother.

Cecilia Raynor question why her son had fallen for this woman. Sure she was an Earl's daughter just as Roy was an Earl's son. Not many from their circle would want to marry him, with his leg. She'd have to take over her duties as countess, there would be no time to play nurse and she certainly didn't want her to be one to her son.

Roy had become Earl at a young age, had been for nearly twenty years. In 1927 his father had died unexpectedly, twice older than she, of a sudden heart attack. Only at the age of nine. She wished her youngest son had been born first. He had been born in 1924. It seemed that he was more fit to be Earl. Roy was too weak willed, looking toward others to take the lead, spoiled by his father. He needed a woman that was head strong. She didn't see Mrs. Heaton, (she had been married to a commoner of all things, but at least he had died honorable for his country, she could give her first husband that) filling that role. Her siblings had all settled outside of their class, except for her youngest sister, Caroline. If she hadn't already been married, she would have been a better fit for Roy.

Roy was not experienced with women and had never taken interest in them, until now. Now that he has, he's made a rather poor choice. But what other option was there?

At least he wasn't moping anymore. She had visited him once in the hospital. When she had seen his leg as they had been chancing the bandages, she had run from the room and wept. If they amputated it there would be no future for him, there would barley be one for him now. He was wretched, she had expected that. She had sat with him all that day, in silence, trying to break into it but had failed.

And then she comes into his life again, able to break through what she could not.

Kate walked into the drawing room. Ivo was sitting in a chair, lounging with his feet up, a drink in his hand. He looked five years older, she observed, quite handsome, more so than Roy. She shook off the unwanted betrayal.

"You know it's not too late, you know. To choose the right brother."

"I'm too old for you."

"We're the same age."

"Right." To her he acted a lot younger. She supposed it came with having no responsibility now. Though he was still in the army, cleaning up 'the Huns' mess. And it payed really well. "I thought you had...what's her name, Kitty."

"Kitty's history. It was Sally last leave. Terrific girl. Wonderful dancer. Or was it a nurse? Don't know her name. Rather a quick one, one night in the field hospital. I'd escorted a chap over there who'd collected a lot of shrapnel, she told us off. I got us off the hook, if you know what I mean. One of the sisters caught us in the dressing tent, saw it rockin a bit. Sent me back to my quarters with a flea in my ear. I heard the nurse got into fretful trouble."

"You are dreadful."

"Well, you have to keep your spirits up somehow."

Kate had to nearly rolled her eyes. He was more like her younger brother, taking out girls every other week. She wanted something more stable, someone who could treat her right. She believed that to be Roy.

"My dear, Kate, you are far more beautiful and desirable than any of them."

Her throat almost clenched at his words. He was so handsome still in his uniform. She felt this electric pull to him that she had never felt with Roy, not even Jack. How can you tell who is the right one? Feel so deeply for someone and at the same time attracted to someone else?

_He's just drunk and it's not even dinner time yet. He doesn't know what he's saying. _She loves Roy.

"Roy is so damn lucky."

"Yes. Yes, he is." She took a glass of whiskey and swallowed it, tasting like a bitter pill as it went down.

* * *

Andy had tracked down Cindy. She had still been staying at the hotel. But she wasn't there. He thought of only one place where she could be. She was at the lake, where he had first met her. She sat there watching the birds. She was so enchanted that he thought twice about interrupting her. He would have, except for something that seemed to gravitate her towards her. He could slip away without noticed. Taking a step back his shoe scrapped the gravel part, sticking out of the sand.

She turned her head up, shielding her eyes from the sun. "Andy, what are you doing here?"

"I want to apologise, for how we left things."

"Oh, how did we leave things?"

"My sister told me the truth, why you left. I want you to know I'm nothing like him. And I'm sorry for the way I treated you in front of my parents. I was in a bad place."

"Would you tell me about it?"

"I guess I started drinking, not because of what happened in the war, but because it made me feel what I felt over there. I was used to it and I missed it."

"In what way did you feel?" Surely he didn't mean that he had liked it.

"I don't know." The heightened scenes, the adrenaline, he had been addicted to? The fearlessness, until that day in the shell holes where he hid where everyone else died? "I know it doesn't make sense. I want you to understand. I've made a mistake."

"But things have changed..." She started. He didn't want her to get the wrong impression or get the chance to convince herself that it would never work.

"Yes, because I've changed. I've stopped the drinking. I'm nothing like your father. He will never change. I would never hurt you."

"I know you wouldn't." She said as he took her hands.

"You're the best thing to ever happen to me. I'll be fine if we try and it doesn't work. I'll be alright with that. But I want to try."

"What if we can't work things out? What if we're just wrong for each other?"

"We'll have to communicate. That's how my parents make it work." The corners of his mouth pulled into a frown. "No, wait. Who am I kidding. I'm sure there are things my father won't tell my mother, about the first war. But I don't want to be like that. I want to be all in. Anything you want to know or ask, I won't keep it from you. If you don't believe that I have changed, then I will do what ever it takes to prove it to you." He finally stopped for a breath.

She looked up with her green eyes and smiled. He didn't know what it was exactly he had said, for her to take him back, to actually give themselves a try. No, a chance.

They were married in July, five months later, a beautiful garden wedding on the estate. The whole village seemed to fill the garden to witness and celebrate the marriage of the Earl's youngest son.

Kate's wedding to Roy was a few weeks after theirs. It was also to be held in the garden but it wasn't to be a sunny day as it had been for her brother's. They had to have the ceremony and reception inside. It still turned out beautiful.

For one of the newly wed couple, the first night was awkward, as it should be. Kate hadn't found it that satisfactory. She had asked him about his leg first, if it was hurting him.

"We can manage."

He tried being on top of her but it was a no go. They switched positions. She could tell he hadn't been that into it. Was it her? Or did having to be on the bottom because of his leg make him feel less of a man?

"That wasn't so bad was it?" He asked.

"No." She whispered, suddenly frightened. Questioning if she had made the right choice. Then he put his arms around her.

In his arms she felt safe. She felt like she was home.


	6. Ten minutes Time

_June 1948_

"But Mummy, I don't want a job." Carrie protested. "And before you say anything I like being a house wife and a mother." She had just had her second child not long ago and was now on her third, at twenty. Maisie had been born in 1947, months after little George. Miles was content with having two little girls. It wasn't a great deal to him if they never had a boy, an heir to pass on his title, because that way of things won't last for ever, he had said. But Carrie was secretly holding out hope.

"It's the only thing I'm good for."

"You're not. You're good with maths and you can put it to use. You, Olivia, and George could be the future of the estate. You've got the intelligence. I don't see why you don't use it."

"I'm not like you and Papa like the others are. I'm my own person."

"Yes. Yes, you are." Mary said, begrudgingly for a moment but then she had to smile. Her brave, intelligent girl, her and Matthew's baby. Brave, despite of everything, facing the possibility of sandal and fallout of the family. She had gotten herself involved with a married man before Miles had come along. Miles had offered her marriage, not to make her an honest woman but because he loved her. No one questioned the circumstances surrounding Mattie's birth. As far as anyone was concerned, Miles was her father. People would often comment how much like her father she looked, even strangers.

He was the perfect match for Carrie. Mary couldn't quite say that for her other children. Olivia was nice and fit in with the family but she was more of a friend to George. Well, it seemed that way to Mary. The one match she liked the least was Cindy. For the life of her, she didn't see what Andy saw in that woman. Self centered and didn't make nice unless it fit her best interests.

Cindy and Kate were both having their first child around the same time as Carrie would be having her third. She thought back to when Carrie had announced she was pregnant with Mattie. Edith had suggested it, earlier in the evening, before Mary had found her daughter crying in her room.

Mary had been having tea with Edith. Edith had asked about the family, how her nieces and nephew's were doing. The topic fell onto Carrie.

"She's been under the weather all week."

"She's not pregnant is she?" Edith had asked.

"Why would she be?"

"I can't think of any reason why young women suddenly be sick, except for one."

Mary had guessed that it had to be it. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. She had had six children after all. Edith only had one, a boy. What would she know? _It's a woman's intuition. _

Mary had entered her room that evening, hearing her daughter's sobbing.

"Carrie, what it is?"

"It's nothing. Go back to bed, Mummy. I'm sorry to wake you."

"You didn't. Now are we going to tell me about it or not?" When Carrie didn't answer, she gave a sigh, "Very well, you're pregnant, aren't you?"

"How...how did you know?"

"Oh, Carrie, really! Do credit me some sense."

_She's laughing at me. _Carrie thought. _How could she be so mean?_

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice? I'm your mother. Not a very maternal one perhaps but still your mother. And I have been pregnant more than a few times myself. Although what is to be done about it. I presume it's your flight captain's."

"Of course!"

"And what does he say about it?"

"He was vile about it. Furious. No concern about me or the baby..."

"And blamed it all on you, I presume. I'm not surprised."

"Oh, Mummy, that's a bit harsh. What do you have against him? It's because he's older, isn't it?"

"That and other things. I've seen you two quarrel a few times. And because of that he's older, he's taken advantage of you in the most appalling way. He seduced you and then did nothing for you, just allowed you to squander your youth and talent for him in return for a bit of sex. Which no doubt was pleasurable..."

"Oh, Mummy, please stop."

"You've gotten yourself into an adult situation so we're going to have an adult conversation."

"I won't marry him. He doesn't want it."

"He only thinks he doesn't. It no doubt immensely shocked him. It's always a shock to any man. The never expect it. It's extraordinary. Your father was always surprised each time I told him I was pregnant."

"But you were already married. And it was hard at first for you and papa. It was thought that you wouldn't have a lot of children. This is different. It's not the same. He won't care."

"He most certainly will. The paternal instinct is surprisingly strong, the urge to protect the female and care for the young."

"I don't see any of that in Luke." She started crying again. Mary pushed her hair back.

"I told you, he was shocked. Whatever he felt when you told him, it will have to change. He'll feel quite differently..."

"But Mummy, I can't marry him. You see, he's already married."

"Yes. Well. I'll think of something."

The solution to her situation was quickly resolved. Then the young officer had taken an interest in Carrie, that she had attended the concert with. They had started going together. Miles would take her to dinner and movies when ever he was on leave. Carrie would often try to give him the cold shoulder. Then he had asked her to marry him. He already knew about The Captain and it hadn't been a surprise to him, and hadn't cared that she was pregnant with another man's child. He felt if they ever were to send him to the front, this would be his only chance he got at a family and he believed that he loved her. He had deep feelings for her and when they were together it just felt right.

Carrie loved being a mother. She was really hoping that it will be a boy. Two girls were lovely. Three wouldn't be so bad. She thought back to when she found out she was pregnant with her first and how scary it had been. Not because of her Aunt Sybil dying in child birth, but how it would effect her family, if people ever found out the truth. And most of all she'd been scared of what papa would think. When Mama had offered to help her, she couldn't see any way out of it.

She's ruined. Ruined. Who would want to marry her now? When Miles had offered her marriage she had thought it too good to be true.

_If he doesn't die in the war and is stuck married to me, a woman he finds that he doesn't love, he will come to resent me. And then there's papa. What would he think? It would crush him. He must never find out._

Her mother assured her that accepting Miles was the right thing to do.

"You might not get an opportunity again. I'll tell you what my maid Anna once told me. Good men aren't like busses. There won't be another one along in ten minutes time."


End file.
